


Actions That Make Us (Something More)

by bobertsmallismydad



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1, Alcohol but mostly in a fun way, F-slur used by homophobic character, First Kiss, Gavin is slightly haunted by his past, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), RK900 is called RK900, Rk900 helps, Slow Build, he gets what's coming to him so don't worry, partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobertsmallismydad/pseuds/bobertsmallismydad
Summary: They fall into a rhythm of meeting each other halfway. RK900 is usually the first to make a move, but Reed is never too far behind.Or, the five times RK900 buys Reed a drink, and the one time Reed returns the favor.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 20
Kudos: 153





	Actions That Make Us (Something More)

**Author's Note:**

> First: Warning for the use of the f-slur twice. It is said by a homophobic character, who gets what's coming to him. It happens in section 3, so please take care of yourself when reading.
> 
> Otherwise, go forth and enjoy this story I wrote for twelve straight hours as the Muses whispered in my ear.

**1**

RK900’s first impression of Detective Reed was not favorable. But it was not altogether unpleasant. He’d of course been briefed on Reed’s past transgressions and sizable disciplinary record. RK900 was certain that Reed would react poorly to his presence so he had not gone to the precinct when Reed was on the clock. That didn’t stop Reed from storming out once Fowler had let him loose from their meeting to discuss his new partner. Hotheaded. Unruly.

RK900 had been made aware of Reed’s track record with partners. Each one had never lasted more than a few months. His longest had been a six-month partnership, which had only ended because said partner transferred to another precinct, for an undisclosed reason.

This information piqued RK900’s interest. To everyone, Reed seemed unpleasant, reckless, unreasonably angry. Yet, someone had stayed around him longer for one reason or another.

The high rate at which Reed closed his cases with high convictions was promising despite his negative qualities. He was unruly but competent. RK900 could function well within those parameters.

The outside of Pearson’s Bar radiated neon red and blue. A classic look, RK900 thought. He’d seen similar bar fronts while interfacing with Connor when inquiring about Detective Reed’s whereabouts. Connor had simply smiled while playing his own first interaction with Lieutenant Anderson. He’d taken notice of the anti-android signs outside. Pearson’s Bar had no such signs now.

Connor had shown him Reed’s actions at work earlier that afternoon and had concluded that he might have taken measures to calm down. It was probable that Reed would be getting a drink at the bar that was only a block from his apartment.

_Find Detective Reed_.

RK900 entered the bar. The patrons glanced his way but quickly lost interest. In the year since the android revolution, many people had come around to the prospect of androids having their own lives. That didn’t mean that everyone had but it would seem if one could drink and pay then they were welcome to do so here.

Reed was sitting at the bar, a beer bottle limply held in his hand. He looked sullen with his other hand propping up his head. RK900 straightened his cuffs before walking over.

“Detective Gavin Reed,” RK900 greeted.

Reed didn’t startle. He lifted his head, with some difficulty, to look up at RK900. His eyes were hazy but held a determination that RK900 respected. RK900 scanned the bottle and found it empty.

“Connor?” Reed mumbled. But RK900 could tell he was putting the pieces together.

Connor had shown him how he had gained favor with Lieutenant Anderson.

_Buy Detective Reed a drink._

“Detective, as you were informed today, I will be your new partner. I wish for us to work together easily and with as little conflict as possible. If I were to buy you another drink would that suffice for now?” RK900 said smoothly. Reed looked at him, sizing him up. RK900 admired his grit.

“Sure, what the hell,” Gavin murmured, sitting up straighter.

RK900 nodded to the bartender and extended his hand out to settle the entire tab. Reed immediately took a long pull from his new bottle.

“RK900,” he said under his breath, like he couldn’t fathom the android’s existence. “They really looked at Connor and said ‘let’s make another’.” He snorted before taking another drink.

RK900 tilted his head, interested in what Reed had to say when his filter was lessened. He knew Reed would never open up otherwise.

“Do you hate androids, Detective?” RK900 asked, no anger clouding his tone. Reed looked up at him again, lips pursed. His eyes swam with something unknown. RK900 couldn’t place it but it wasn’t hate.

“Hate, no. You’re all just a bunch of prissy bitches, is all. Severely dislike? Probably,” he rambled. Unfocused. Sincere.

RK900 felt something like a smile cross his face for a fraction of a second. “Duly noted. Are you finished? I’ll call a cab.”

Reed finished his beer and smacked his lips. “Thanks, David.” The bartender shook his head but smiled. _He comes here often,_ RK900 noted. He didn’t touch Reed as he stood, stayed away to make him more comfortable.

“You gonna tuck me in with a kiss goodnight?” Reed mumbled. RK900 shook his head as he opened the door for the detective.

“Unnecessary, you’re a grown adult. I won’t baby you.”

“Good, first lesson,” Reed cheered. “You might last longer than—” He paused, gave it some thought.

“Longer than a few months?” RK900 supplied for him. Reed looked at him.

They both knew that RK900 must have read his file, but to acknowledge it aloud at a first meeting would surely put Reed on edge. RK900 looked away toward the cab pulling up. Reed caught sight of it too.

“I could walk.”

“Please, Detective. Get home safe. We’ll talk tomorrow, for as little as possible if you wish.”

Reed hummed. “You’re lucky I’m almost drunk, tin can.”

“I suppose.” RK900 opened the car door for the detective. Reed stumbled inside as RK900 inputted his address and put in his own payment information. Then Reed was riding off down the street.

RK900 made his way to his own apartment. A somewhat impersonal space in comparison to most other living spaces in the world. His only needs were that he have a charging station and enough thirium on hand for emergencies. But otherwise, it was an empty space more than it was a place to live. But it was his.

**2**

Reed isn’t the worst to work with once RK900 has gained information pertinent to working with him. He has noticed Reed doesn’t like to be coddled, but does appreciate a coffee in the morning. Reed doesn’t like when other people step in on his investigations, but does listen to any input others might have to offer. He overworks himself and hates when anyone brings it up. But he won’t snap at RK900 when he rouses him when it’s dark enough that the light of his desk screen lights up his features. He won’t snap when RK900 calls him a cab and pays the fare.

Reed is competent. An asshole. But a competent one.

They were assigned a case of an android murder, her thirium pump stolen, as it wasn’t found at the scene. They were able to get their hands on the CCTV footage from a camera on the other side of the street from the crime scene. RK900 offered to scrub through the footage but Reed insisted he do it himself.

Logically, RK900 could go against Reed’s wishes and do it within minutes but that would sully their slow progress towards acting cordially to one another. So, he let Reed do it. Knowing it might be a long night, he went to make a cup of coffee. It wasn’t healthy, especially at this hour, but Reed had been agreeable today.

RK900 set the cup of coffee down without a word. Reed didn’t like it when niceties were acknowledged. He immediately wrapped a hand around the mug and lifted it to his lips. He hissed at the temperature but drank anyway. RK900 noticed this, every time. He found it endearing. He would not voice this.

He turned away and closed his eyes to go into stasis while he waited for the detective to finish. This was their routine. It was what worked for them.

He was roused when something warm pushed against his chest. After opening his eyes, he saw Reed looking back at him expectantly. His hand was still placed on RK900’s chest.

“Yes, Detective?” he asked.

“I found it. Could you do your android thing and enhance it in your brain or something? There’s something there but I can’t make it out.” Reed removed his hand to gesture at the screen.

“Of course, I’ll do my best,” RK900 replied. He placed his hand on the screen and focused. He fed the specified part through his processors before projecting them on the screen. “To which part are you referring?”

“Go back a bit. There. See that person, they brush past our victim right before she collapses.”

“Yes, peculiar. Just a moment.” The footage on-screen zoomed in as much as it could without becoming too grainy and slowed down. They both watched as the victim walked and then the arm of the other person shot out toward her torso. Then she collapsed.

“Can you get a clear shot of the guy’s face?”

“It would seem they knew to avoid the camera.”

“A stalker, do you think?” Reed asked. “Maybe they’ve been watching her routine, knew about the cameras, decided it was time to strike?”

“Perhaps. Would you mind if I search the footage from the previous weeks?” Asking for permission. He didn’t need to but he thought that Reed might appreciate it. Reed leaned back and finished his cup.

“Knock yourself out. We don’t have much else to go off of.”

It took only a few minutes to scrub through the footage. He found that their victim took that route each week more days out of the week than none.

“Detective,” he said, to grab his attention back from his phone, “I believe I might have caught the suspect at a different angle. His gait is similar to that of our footage of the victim’s death.”

“Play it,” he said, sitting forward on his chair.

The victim walked across the screen. This time, though, the suspect walked behind her, watching. But this time the suspect stopped in line of the camera and turned just enough for RK900 to get a read on his identity.

“It’s circumstantial evidence but it would not hurt to question him,” RK900 suggested as he pulled the man’s record up.

“Pull up his address and we’ll go tomorrow, first thing in the morning.”

_So you do know when to wait,_ RK900 thought. He did note it in their ongoing report as he pulled his hand away.

“Done. Are you retiring for the evening, Detective?”

“‘Are you retiring for the evening’ he says,” Reed mimicked as he smirked. “Why do you always talk like a gentleman from the 40s?”

“Because I am a gentleman.”

Reed snorted as he stood. “Yeah, that’s definitely the one word I’d use to describe you, robocop.”

“Excellent,” RK900 said as he rose from his own seat. Reed eyed him, knowing the argument, if it had been an argument at all, was over.

“Goodnight, Detective. I trust you can find your own way home.”

“Yeah, yeah, goodnight to you too you fucking nightmare.” But there wasn’t any malice behind the words. RK900 didn’t bring this up. He never does.

“Until tomorrow.”

Reed left. RK900 watched after him, as always.

A month. It has been a month since they started this weird partnership. It had been the top gossip for a week before the precinct had lost interest when Reed didn’t blow up in RK900’s face. They’d all expected it.

If he were honest with himself, RK900 had expected it too. There was always a chance he’d overstep before learning where the line was. But Reed was a walking contradiction. A year ago he hated androids, now he could amicably work with one.

RK900 found this incredibly interesting.

In the morning, Reed came into work with a slight smirk on his face. RK900 was ready with a cup of coffee to go so they could go to work immediately.

“Let’s go, tin can.” Almost fond. RK900 noticed. He always did.

They arrived at the suspect’s apartment. Needless to say, this interaction ended with RK900 sprinting across a rooftop after scaling the fire escape. Reed waited by the car, keys in hand.

“Great first impression, Dennis,” Reed called as RK900 led the suspect by his arm. They placed him in the backseat.

“Good work, tin can. Fast as shit.”

“I am the most advanced android ever created, Detective,” RK900 replied as he fixed his cuffs. He could feel Reed roll his eyes. Reed pointed to where a large stain of dirt marred the front of his Cyberlife jacket. It would only come out in the wash, RK900 knew. He sighed and removed the jacket.

“Wow, the jacket can come off. Hallelujah!” Reed rejoiced, laughing. RK900 rolled his eyes.

“Very funny.”

“I’m fucking hilarious, tin can.” He rounded the car and tapped the hood. “Fucking hilarious. You should be glad you got me: the funniest man alive.”

It was RK900’s turn to roll his eyes. He sat in the passenger seat, hiding his smile behind where he was using his hand to prop his head up.

Their suspect confessed without any pressure. Case, closed. Evidence, filed. Report, polished and submitted.

They took a long lunch, meaning they sat at a table in the break room together while Reed ate. RK900 always tried not to stare but it was interesting how humans ate.

“Stop staring.”

“Make me.”

Reed flipped him off. RK900 huffed then straightened as a notification crossed his HUD.

“The Annual Detroit Police Department Benefit is tonight, Detective Reed. We have been asked to attend.”

“Fuck no.”

RK900 hummed and stared him down. Reed glared back. This went on for a few moments before Reed lifted his sandwich to his mouth to take a bite. He chewed slowly before swallowing.

“What’s in it for me?”

“Are you implying that I will need to bribe you?”

Reed shrugged, a grin hinting behind his facade. “Maybe.”

“I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Multiple drinks,” Reed amended.

RK900 acquiesced. “Multiple drinks. So, I will pick you up at seven and we will arrive together.”

Reed grunted. “I gotta wear a fucking tux, huh?”

“Preferably. Do you have something nice that isn’t the usual garbage you wear?”

“Fuck you,” he sighed before finishing his sandwich. “Believe it or not, I’ve been to fancy events.” He brushed his hands together.

“I’m glad to hear. Shall we return to work?”

“Yeah, yeah. What’s next on the list?”

The day passed by without much happening. They were waiting for warrants and more evidence to come down the pipeline. They both went their own ways at the end of the shift.

RK900 bought a tux, though instead of the usual white shirt his is a dark, midnight blue. The only thing that had a home in his closet currently. Something to call his own, something that made it more than an empty space.

It fit him perfectly. He quite enjoyed it.

He stood outside Reed’s door for almost ten minutes after he’d knocked and gotten the response, “Calm the fuck down, robot bitch!”

Reed eventually appeared, tux a little out of order but good enough. RK900 fixed Reed’s appearance in the automatic cab, much to Reed’s chagrin. They arrived on time, were shown to their seats in the banquet hall, and waited until it started.

“At least five drinks,” Reed hissed to him under his breath while the keynote speaker went on and on.

“Agreed,” RK900 whispered back. Reed huffed then downed the rest of his water. They ate dinner (except for any androids in attendance) before the reception turned into a more casual affair once the pleasantries were shared. Small standing tables surrounded the dance floor, a small band sat at the front of the room.

Reed had claimed a table immediately. As an apology, RK900 plucked two champagne flutes from a waiter’s tray and walked over.

“It’s not much,” RK900 started, placing a flute in front of Reed, “but it’s alcoholic.”

“Thank god.” He downed the champagne. “Not bad, a bit too bubbly.”

“Apologies. Another?” RK900 offered the other flute. Reed took it gently, sipped on it instead of sucking it down.

“Can you even drink?” It was a question that RK900 didn’t expect. It wasn’t unwelcome, though. RK900 did his best to quell his smile but failed.

“Thirium is the only thing that we androids are made to ingest, but a bit of alcohol won’t, as you say, fry my circuits.”

Reed snorted, which made him groan in pain. “Right up the nose, shit, tin can.” But he was laughing. Genuine. Sincere.

_He always is. Even when he’s angry,_ RK900 thought. He grinned.

“Then drink with me,” Reed said after he’d recovered, plucking another flute from a passing waiter. He handed it to RK900. They clinked glasses. Reed watched as RK900 brought it to his lips and sipped.

“Quite bubbly, cheaply made. Not the best that could be served.”

“Priss,” Reed teased, grinning sharply, “If you weren’t such a great detective, you could make a killing at wine tastings, huh?”

“Thank you, Detective, I’ll keep that in mind if I’m ever in the need of another career option.”

“Fuck you.” Reed chuckled before his grin faltered. RK900 took notice. “You know you can call me by my name.”

A step towards something. Something more.

Instead of sounding too eager, RK900 offered, “Reed?” 

The tension in Reed’s shoulders lessened as his face relaxed. “Sure.”

“Of course, Detective Reed,” RK900 teased once more. Reed snorted more champagne up his nose, leading to some more colorful language to which RK900 laughed wholeheartedly. RK900 took notice of Reed’s look toward him. Yes, something more. They said nothing else except to make snide remarks to one another about the other attendants.

**3**

Four months they’ve been working together. A team respected by the entire precinct. A fact that Reed won’t admit to liking. He had tried so hard for so long to seem like he was just another asshole but RK900 could see right through his charade. Reed loved his job and helping people.

So when RK900 arrived at work only to have Reed not show up on time, he was somewhat shocked.

“Connor?” RK900 asked as he came to stand next to his older counterpart. “Have you seen Detective Reed? He’s supposed to have arrived by now.”

Connor smiled somewhat sadly back. “He’s called off today. Fowler approved it.”

Again, RK900 was shocked. Reed never called off. RK900 cycled through all of his files, searching for some meaning behind today’s date: August 24th. The only date he acquired that was close was that of September 1st. The day his longest partner officially transferred.

RK900 knew his LED must be a bright red when Connor touched his arm softly. “Give him some space, RK. I’ve heard today is an especially hard day for him.”

“From whom?”

Connor smirked. “Who else?” Anderson, then. Perhaps he should ask the lieutenant. Connor squeezed his arm.

“Hank won’t tell. Just let Gavin deal with it.”

“Alone?”

Connor looked shocked as he pulled his hand away. “Isn’t that how Gavin usually deals with his problems? Alone?”

_No, at least, not anymore_ , he thought to himself.

“Thank you for your insight, Connor. I must be going.” He requested his first day off since he’d started working and headed out. He thought he might have heard Connor call after him but it was lost in the notification signaling his approved request.

He headed to the only place he knew Reed might be: Pearson’s. It looked different in the daylight, the neon lights advertising the local beer turned off. It almost seemed otherworldly.

RK900 stepped across the threshold and took notice that Reed was the only one, besides the bartender, in the room. Cautiously, RK900 approached.

Without looking up, Reed grumbled out, “I knew you’d come after me. Can’t give me one fucking moment of peace, can you?” His speech already slurred. He smacked a hand on the countertop.

“I don’t mean to intrude.”

“That’s a fucking lie if I ever heard one. Come here to tell me off? Tell me to get my shit together?”

_Why do you continue to push people away?_ RK900 wondered. He shook his head.

“I came to see if you were alright. I see now that you aren’t—”

“And what are you gonna do about it?” Reed sneered. He stood from his barstool. He stumbled but regained his balance to jab RK900’s chest. RK900 breathed in, smelling the vodka on his breath. His sensors analyzed him without meaning to do so.

“I’m not going to do anything. Unless you ask me to,” RK900 said. Always sincere. Accommodating. Honest.

Reed stilled. His sneer fell but didn’t disappear. He collapsed back onto his seat and turned away. “I want you to leave.”

“Then I’ll go,” RK900 amended. He offered his hand out to the bartender, David, and paid off Reed’s current tab. “I promised you multiple drinks, here’s me making good on that.”

He sent a message through the commlink to David’s phone. _Make sure he gets home safely._

Then he left his partner there to wallow. Perhaps to grieve. RK900 wasn’t quite sure. Reed wouldn’t tell him. At least not now when he was hurting so fully.

RK900 barely registered that he had input the location of Reed’s old partner’s precinct into the cab’s navigation until he was already halfway there. Upon arriving, he set himself to the cold machine he’d started out as and made his way inside. The android at the front desk greeted him warmly and let him through once he’d shown his credentials.

Reed’s old partner, Malcom Johnson, stood in the middle of the bullpen, talking to another coworker. RK900 made his way straight for him.

“Detective Johnson,” RK900 greeted him. The address made RK900’s mouth dry up. It felt wrong to apply such a term to someone who he didn’t know. A stupid hangup.

“Who’s asking?” the other man replied.

“I have some questions to ask you. About an old partner of yours.”

Johnson’s face immediately fell. “What for?”

RK900 made sure to smile sharply. Reed had often told him that his smile carried the energy of a Great White in a frenzy. Johnson’s heart rate had elevated several beats per minute at the sight of him.

“I just had a simple inquiry into how your partnership with Detective Reed ended. The answer isn’t on file. I thought asking you would be the next best thing.”

The man smiled wildly, licked his teeth before he glanced at his coworker he’d been talking to previously. “You wanna know why I ended the partnership?”

“So you initiated,” RK900 interjected.

“Sure as all hell my idea. I wasn’t going to spend another week as his partner.” Johnson snapped his mouth closed.

_He’s afraid he’ll say something unbecoming. Maybe even illegal_ , RK900 thought. A new objective appeared in his visual display.

_Make Malcom Johnson confess._

“Detective Johnson,” RK900 said amicably, gesturing between them, “I simply want to know why August 24th is of such importance to the two of you.”

The hitch in his breath. The dilation of his pupils. The continued rise in his heartbeat.

Today meant something to him. A weakness in the façade he displayed.

“We just had differing opinions. That’s all.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well that’s the fucking truth so you’d better believe it!” Johnson hissed. His coworker grabbed Johnson’s shoulder.

“Dude, what’s going on here?”

“Nothing! It ended for personal reasons,” Johnson replied. RK900 relished in his rising anger.

“We can go to a room more private if you do not wish to tell me in front of others.”

There. An ember of anger burning deep in those eyes. The flare of his nostrils.

_He hates me. He hates Reed._

“Why do you hate your ex-partner enough to stop working with him and transfer precincts?”

The fury that burned across Johnson’s face was almost enough for RK900 to stand down.

“You think I was going to stay another day as that fag’s partner?” The way he said it chilled RK900 to his core. It was white-hot anger, smoldered but dangerous. The atmosphere went still. RK900 shut down all functions that wanted to retreat. He was going to get answers.

“No, no, I don’t have to put up with that shit. For months I was working next to some abomination,” he hissed. Lewis recoiled back a couple of steps. Johnson advanced on RK900 and stabbed a finger into his chest. “You his partner now? You fucking buddy buddy with some faggot. I bet you two have some real fun together, don’t you?”

“You are prejudiced against gay people,” RK900 responded, sounding unimpressed, which only angered Johnson more. “I’m somewhat disappointed.”

Johnson reared back and punched RK900’s jaw. His head snapped to the side but he felt nothing. If anything, Johnson had just hurt himself. RK900 made sure to look as intimidating as he turned to look back at Johnson, who was currently holding his hand.

“You’ve broken two fingers, and sprained your wrist,” RK900 replied coolly. “I’ll note that you struck me without justifiable cause.”

“Fuck your justifiable cause,” Johnson hissed.

RK900 sneered. “Did you hurt Detective Gavin Reed at any point on August 24th, 2035?”

Johnson grinned through the pain. “And what if I did? You gonna have Reed testify against me?” Another crack in the wall.

As protocol stated, RK900 could only obtain full access to Reed’s medical history if he had probable cause to do so. RK900 was sure he had it now. He pulled up the files within milliseconds and refrained from cringing at what he saw. Reed had gone to the hospital the night of August 24th with a black eye, a busted lip, bruises littering his abdominal region, and a sprained elbow. In the report, Reed said he’d been jumped in an alleyway and that he hadn’t gotten a good look at the guy. The case was still open.

“Are you confessing to beating a police officer, on the grounds of hating his sexual orientation?”

Johnson laughed as he straightened from where he’d been hunched over his hand protectively.

“I want a lawyer.”

RK900 took his handcuffs from his pocket. “Malcom Johnson, you are under arrest for the assault and battery of fellow officer Gavin Reed. Put your hands behind your back.”

As he cuffed Johnson, the bullpen around him came to life, people yelling at them both. Some on Johnson’s side, others on RK900’s. RK900 paid them no mind as he continued. He’d take Johnson back to his own precinct to question him further.

He commandeered a cruiser to transport Johnson.

Needless to say, the looks RK900 received when people caught sight of a previous officer of the law in his custody were priceless. After putting Johnson in a holding cell, he was stopped by Officer Chen on his way to Fowler's office.

“RK, did you?” She seemed hopeful. Almost happy.

“You knew,” RK900 concluded.

Chen looked skittish but nodded. “Gavin told me not to tell. I wanted him to go forward but he was scared. I was scared for him.” She looked at RK900 for a long moment before she hugged him. A full-body hold. He was stunned but patted her back awkwardly.

“Thank you. Make sure he goes away for a long time.”

“I will try my best, Officer Chen.”

She pulled away to go back to work. He continued on his way to Fowler’s office. When they had concluded their meeting, RK900 received a notification that David had made sure Reed had gotten home alright. _Didn’t drink another drop after you left._

RK900 smiled despite himself.

**4**

The next morning, Reed came into work only to run into a bone-crushing hug from Officer Chen. He spluttered but hugged her back. RK900 took notice of the blush that spread across his face and how he melted into the hug he pretended to be annoyed by. Officer Chen let him go and whispered something.

Reed looked startled. _Fragile. Vulnerable._

RK900 made sure to smile warmly when Reed approached. He sat down at his desk then leaned in. Like always, RK900 met him halfway.

“Hey, thanks for what you did for me yesterday,” Reed said, hushed but thankful. “It’s always a bad time around now and usually I’m alone through it. But it was nice that you came to check up on me.”

“It’s what friends do, is it not?”

Reed smiled at him. Genuine. Honest. _Perfect_. “Yeah, I guess so. Don’t expect any more mushy stuff from me.” He turned to look to where Chen had hugged him.

“And you wanna tell me why Tina’s saying sappy shit to me too?”

RK900 stood up. “Do you promise to not get mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” Reed stood as well, though weary. RK900 gestured for him to follow him back to the interrogation room corridor. He opened the door to one of the observation rooms then hesitated.

“You agree that we are friends?” RK900 asked.

Reed stopped short but nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine.”

RK900 nodded and they went inside the observation room.

“RK?”

RK900 did not turn to look at his partner. They stood side by side as they looked beyond into the interrogation room where Officer Miller was having Malcom Johnson sign his confession.

“What is this?” Reed sounded scared. As well as relieved.

“Malcom Johnson has been fired from his detective position and barred from ever being on the force in any state. Luckily, Michigan now includes sexual orientation in their hate crime laws. So he’ll most likely go to prison for life without parole.”

“But I didn’t—”

“The survivor’s identity is protected under the law. They do not have to be present for any trial and their testimonial can be pre-recorded for the jury. Any photographic evidence can be submitted with identifying features censored.”

“RK—”

“He will be going away for a long time—”

“RK!”

Reed stood in front of him, his hands gripping RK900’s arms. He looked frantic. His eyes contained something more. Something like wonder.

“Are you with me?” Reed asked.

RK900 nodded. “Yes, Gavin, I am with you.”

“Good. He’s nothing. If he’s going away, then I’m okay.”

“You’re okay,” RK900 whispered. An affirmation.

Reed smiled. “Yeah, big guy. I’m okay.”

“Fowler understands if you’d want to take some time off until you feel better.”

“No, I’m good.” Reed’s smug smirk spread across his face. “Let’s go back to work.”

RK900 held up an index finger. “On one condition. You let me buy you a drink after work. A nice one, not just one to get you drunk.”

Reed scoffed but went over to the door. He opened it, looking back at RK900 almost fondly. “Sure, Terminator. You can buy me a drink.” Something like wonder.

RK900 followed him out.

The rest of the workday passed like normal. RK900 forgot how much he enjoyed their normal. They question some witnesses and make headway on another case.

Once they clocked out, RK900 walked Reed to a cab.

“I’ll meet you at your apartment. Dress nice.”

“Shit, RK, you gonna wine and dine me?”

“Not quite, unless you want me to pay for dinner as well as drinks.”

“I’ll pay for dinner, you get the drinks. Deal?”

“That is agreeable. Be ready by eight.”

They part ways. But they come back together.

_Don’t we always. Ever since the beginning._ RK900 dressed in the shirt and slacks from his tux, trying to keep it casual.

He met Reed at his apartment. Reed wore a dark green button-down and slacks.

“Hell, Terminator. Way to show me up.”

“Shut up,” RK900 chided before they walked out to the cab.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.” RK900 inputted the location. They made idle conversation as the lights of the strip soared past.

“Shit, this is the nice part of downtown. Where the fuck are we going?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise.”

“You bastard, you intend on buying dinner too don’t you? You sly bitch!”

RK900 laughed. Their cab came to a stop outside The Jameson Hotel. They stepped out.

“RK, this is too much.”

“It’s just enough,” RK900 reasoned. Reed looked great in the warm light of the entrance to the hotel. He looked soft and open.

_Has anyone ever looked like a possibility_? RK900 asked himself. He shook himself from his thoughts.

“We have reservations.”

That spooked Reed into moving. “Shit, you should have said so.” RK900 smiled further as he heard Reed say, _prissy bitch_.

RK900 led him, a hand appropriately placed at the small of Reed’s back, to the bar off to the right. They were shown immediately to a corner booth, secluded from the rest of the dining room.

“Are you a fan of rum?” RK900 asked. Reed rolled his eyes.

“You gonna order everything for me?”

“The food is yours to choose, but the reason I brought you here is to have you try a specific drink.”

“Rum is fine. God, how did we get here?” Reed groaned as he rubbed his hands over his face.

“A cab.”

“Smartass.” Fond. Incredibly so.

The waitress came by to take Reed’s order.

“Drinks?” she asked.

“Two rum coffees, please.”

Reed perked up at that. “Shit, is that gonna go well with the food?”

“You can drink coffee with anything. Just last week you ate the leftover pickles in the breakroom while chugging your afternoon coffee. You’re disgusting.”

“You’re welcome,” Reed sneered playfully.

The food came out just a short time after that with the drinks.

“This is fancy shit.”

“I figured you deserve something. And when I make good on a promise, I make sure it can be the best it can be.”

Reed leveled his fork at RK900. “Most advanced android and shit like that?” Reed shoveled a bite of steak into his mouth.

“Yes, Gavin, exactly,” he replied cheekily. “Now, try the drink. Make sure you like it.”

“Fine, Mom,” he whined. They both took their own cups and took a drink.

Yes, that something was wonder. _Has he always looked at me like that?_ RK900 asked himself.

Reed smiled at him. “Okay, that’s pretty fucking good.”

The drink was warm, hot enough to line the stomach and remind one of home. The cardamom and nutmeg with the already spiced rum added to the warmth gathered in the belly.

“I thought you’d like it. It’s casual, filling, and it tastes wonderful.”

The rest of dinner was spent trading stories back and forth, smiling over the rims of their respective glasses.

RK900 walked Reed to his door at the end of the night.

“Thanks for tonight,” Reed said, toying with his keys.

“You’re welcome. I hope it was to your liking.”

Reed rolled his eyes. “Yeah, just don’t make it a habit of spoiling me.”

“Duly noted, Detective.”

They stood in silence for a moment. Reed fidgeted with his keys more.

“Is something wrong?” RK900 asked. Reed stopped and looked up at him.

“Malcom,” he stopped, ran a hand through his hair, “we were partners for a while. I mean, you know that. You've read my file.”

RK900 stayed silent.

“We were close, not _close_ , but I’ll admit I liked him a lot.” Reed sniffed. “I made a move on him, I thought he felt the same. Never said anything that put me on guard.

“The night of August 24th, we had just gotten off work, had a couple of beers at Pearson’s. We were walking and I tried to kiss him.”

Reed started to wring his hands, the keys put away in his pocket now. “He punched me, gave me a black eye, kicked me while I was down. Called me fucked up things. God, I felt so horrible. He made me think I was disgusting.”

“You’re not,” RK900 interjected.

Reed smiled sadly. “He called off work for the next week, then transferred. But I didn’t say anything to anyone except Tina. God, she wanted to bash in his kneecaps.”

“She still does.”

Reed laughed, wiped at his nose. He’d started to tear up during his retelling. RK900 wanted so badly to comfort him but kept his distance.

“I was okay with letting it slide if I didn’t have to see him I could manage. But every August 24th I felt like shit because he made me feel like shit. Then you had to go and be a knight in shining armor.”

“Are you angry?”

“No,” Reed sighed, smiling up at RK900, “I needed to see that bastard locked up, I just couldn’t do it on my own.”

“I’m happy I could bring you any sense of peace.”

“Yeah, Terminator. You can rest easy now, knowing you’ve slain the dragon.”

“Does that make you the princess in the tower?”

Reed scoffed, plucking his keys back out of his pocket. He put the key in the door, turned it. Looking at RK900, he grinned.

“The self-destructive prince, actually,” he quipped. He opened the door. “See you at work tomorrow.”

“Until tomorrow, Gavin.”

He caught a glimpse of Reed’s apartment before the door closed softly.

**5**

In their six months since being partnered, they have not had to do undercover work. Until now.

Reed tugged at the collar of his suit, almost loosening the tie. RK900 swatted his hand away.

“Stop fidgeting.”

“We can’t all be androids that can shut off being nervous.”

“I don’t have to ‘shut it off’, Detective. I’m doing my job.”

“Fuck you,” he grumbled. But he left his collar alone.

“Okay, look for the marks,” Officer Person said. They’re in the back of the surveillance van, waiting to enter the bar. “Act like you are irrevocably in love with one another.”

Reed fake gagged. RK900 shot him a look.

“Child,” RK900 whispered.

“Asshole,” Reed hissed back.

Then Person shooed them out of the van. RK900 wrapped an arm around Reed’s waist and led him to the front door. He opened it for Reed and smiled at the scowl he received.

They were led to their booth in the corner, which gave RK900 a view of the entire room without interruption.

“What would you like?” RK900 asked. He had no reference on how to act as if he and Reed were dating. They were friends, sure, but more than that was foreign to him.

Reed looked at the menu, his scowl deepening. “There aren't even any prices.”

“This is an expensive restaurant,” RK900 explained, “it is how things are here.”

“All of this shit is in French.”

“Would you like me to translate?”

“Just order for me. Add to the cover that you’re like my sugar daddy or something,” Reed replied. He set his menu down and glanced around.

“Any preference for wine?”

“What?” Reed was thrown off, RK900 could tell.

“To pair with the food. Do you have a preference for red or white?”

“I don’t like wine.”

“Red it is,” he said aloud as he scanned the menu. “Is duck okay for you?”

“They serve duck here? Shit, this place is bougie as fuck,” Reed replied. RK900 looked up to fix him with a glare.

“Gavin, please act like you want to be here. I haven’t seen them come in yet but they could at any moment. We must blend in,” RK900 said quietly. Reed rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut.

“Duck is okay,” he said after a few moments of silence. RK900 nodded. He smiled at their waiter when he came to take their order.

“Two glasses of cabernet sauvignon and one duck special,” he said. He made sure to gaze at Reed coyly as he put his hand, palm up, on the table. The waiter left before Reed took his hand.

“Am I embarrassing you, Gavin?” RK900 asked, brushing a thumb over his knuckles softly. Reed let out a breath, the tension finally leaving his shoulders. RK900 relished in how easily he could relax the detective.

“Just nervous. Feels weird holding your hand when someone can see it through your eyes.” It was true, Person was currently watching the feed through RK900’s eyes so that they could potentially record an illegal exchange. RK900 smiled sympathetically.

“Then perhaps I owe you something after this is concluded?”

Reed perked up. “Like what?” Flirting. RK900 liked it.

They had yet to put any labels on their relationship. They had gone out for drinks at the Jameson Hotel multiple times since the first but they had not gone further than that. They seemed to have sequestered themselves from pushing into something more. Oh, how RK900 craved for something more. He thought often of kissing the detective at his door. Sometimes he’d even entertain the thought of pushing Reed back so that they were alone in that apartment together.

But he refrained as Reed hadn’t invited him into his home at all. And he didn’t want to push the detective further than he was willing to go. RK900 was afraid of pushing him away in an attempt at pulling him closer.

“I’ll buy you any kind of drink you’d like.”

Reed smiled. “Not wine, I hope.”

“No wine. Your choice.”

“You already know my choice. That’s no fun.”

RK900 stiffened. He caught sight of the three marks walking in. The hostess brought them to their usual table, a booth at the opposite end from RK900 and Reed. Reed noticed his change of demeanor but didn’t turn around himself.

“Showtime,” Reed whispered. RK900 looked back to Reed fondly and continued to caress his hand.

The three men were chatting. One of them had a briefcase, cuffed to his wrist. The other two looked around the room. RK900 brought Reed’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, making sure at least one of the men noticed. He smiled when one of the men turned and whispered to his colleague, a thumb pointed in their direction.

“Darling, how was work today?” he asked Reed, soft and open. His smile only grew brighter as Reed blushed.

“Same old, same old,” he coughed out. He grasped for his glass of water and drank half of it.

The men in the corner laughed at something. One of the men kept looking their way, RK900 noticed.

“I think one of them is interested in our love life,” RK900 murmured. “Should I invite him over?”

Reed’s face darkened, his eyes growing flinty. Ready for a fight. Reed pulled his hand toward himself to kiss RK900’s hand. He trailed a finger down where his wrist was exposed. RK900 felt his internal processors freeze up. Reed’s smirk was enough to tell him that he had a blush of his own on his face.

“I want your undivided attention,” Reed growled playfully. RK900 nodded but kept an eye out on their suspects. The man had looked away and was now talking to his colleagues.

“So, why red wine with the duck?”

“Well, the acidity of the red wine pairs nicely with the fat of the duck. The balance is key.”

“Maybe you should do this as a career.”

“Would you like that to be my cover?” he whispered. “I could be a food and wine critic, going from restaurant to restaurant with my husband.”

“You’d have to marry me first,” Reed teased. But his eyes looked somber. Something different in his eyes that RK900 hadn’t seen yet.

Then one of the men popped open the briefcase and RK900 was scanning it. Crisp hundred dollar bills filling it to the brim in neat stacks. An envelope slid across the table from their admirer’s hand.

RK900 paged the commlink to Person, _Money for the envelope. Potential hostage possibility, subtle entry suggested._ He took note of the guns at their sides. The man with the briefcase took the envelope, looked inside, then took out a key from his pocket. He unlocked the handcuffs and slid the case over to the other men. The exchange was complete.

Now they just had to wait for Person to group the team together and make the entry.

“What now?” Reed asked when RK900 gave him a thumbs up out of sight of their guys, their personal signal.

“We drink our wine and eat our food. And intervene if necessary.”

The waiter came with their wine, promising the food was almost ready. RK900 thanked him.

“Don’t drink the wine until you’ve first taken a bite of the duck,” RK900 said, stopping Reed from taking a drink. “If you don’t like wine, you’ll hate it even more if you taste it before the food.”

“I just want to drink,” Reed whined, but set his glass down, opting instead for another large gulp of water.

Person came through the door flanked by four other officers. “Evening fellas,” she greeted. They all went for their guns but stopped when faced with five already trained on them. Slowly, the men got out of the booth. Their admirer glanced over at them, this time Reed was looking back. He gave the gawker a sly smirk.

The waiter barely paid attention to the commotion occurring on the opposite side of the room.

“Shouldn’t we help?”

“The department is paying for this, you might as well enjoy it.” RK900 thanked the waiter as he set the food down, slipping him a generous tip.

Reed took a bite of the duck then took a sip of the wine. “Okay, I don’t like wine, but this is pretty good.”

“I’m glad.”

Person and the other officers escorted the men outside; the briefcase held in her hand protectively. RK900 and Reed clinked glasses.

“Onto the next,” RK900 said.

“I’ll drink to that.”

**+1**

Instead of going back to the precinct, they went for a walk after they finished dinner. The undercover job happened outside of regular work hours so now they could take in the nightlife of the city without having to worry about work.

Something had shifted. Perhaps when their fingers met on the tabletop of the restaurant. Or when they’d drank rum coffees together. Maybe it started when Reed jabbed him in the chest and told him to leave after shots of vodka.

Perhaps it all was set in motion the moment RK900 laid eyes on the drunk, rumpled detective.

Reed walked beside him, bumping shoulders and brushing against him when he wanted to point out something as they walked. Making sure to be just enough in the way so that RK900 would notice.

“Come back to my place,” he said, quietly.

RK900 nodded, excited at the prospect of finally crossing the threshold. By now RK900 had memorized every inch of his door but never even a hint at what lay beyond.

When the cab came, meeting them at the corner of 5th and Pine, they sat side by side. This time when RK900 stood in front of Reed’s door, he had the guarantee of seeing the other side. He unlocked the door, huffing, before opening it. He pulled RK900 through.

“I figured it was time to let you in on a tradition of mine,” Reed said as he shucked off his jacket and hung it up. RK900 removed his jacket as well and placed it beside Reed’s. He followed Reed into the kitchen. It was neat and orderly, a pleasant surprise.

He opened a cabinet and took down two whiskey glasses. Then a bottle of whiskey.

RK900 leaned against the doorway to the kitchen and watched as Reed went about making two whiskeys on the rocks. Once finished, he picked them up and took them into the living room. Reed made him sit down before putting the glass in his hand. The couch sat facing a tv, where DVDs and CDs covered the rest of the surface to worrying heights.

“I’ve been doing this for a couple of years,” Reed explained as he sat beside him on the couch. “I buy the best bottle of whiskey I can find, cost be damned, then I only drink it on special occasions.”

‘What's the occasion?” RK900 asked, curious.

“Well, we just closed a case. And—” Reed paused. RK900 detected an increase in his heart rate. He looked into his glass before looking over at RK900. “It’s been six months since we started working together, give or take a couple of days.”

RK900 smiled. He raised his glass to cheers. “To six more.”

Reed returned the grin. “To six more, tin can.”

They each took a sip.

“It’s one of my favorite drinks. Sure as hell tastes like shit but it’s the occasion that makes it,” Reed reasoned.

“I concur. This would not be my first choice but it is nice.” He watched the ice swirl in the amber liquid, appreciating how the ice melted into the alcohol. Two different temperatures, meeting in the middle.

“RK?”

“Yes?”

He looked to Reed. Wonder. Adoration. _Love._ How could those eyes hold so much?

“Can I kiss you?”

RK900 was already leaning in when Reed met him halfway, the world sighing between them. RK900 could taste the whiskey, even the Cabernet he’d had earlier. Reed pulled him in, washing him out to sea. But kept him afloat enough to kiss him over and over, so thoroughly RK900 forgot to think of anything else.

“Long time coming,” Reed sighed against his cheek before placing a kiss where he could. RK900 smiled and kissed him once more just to feel him lean in.

“I concur.”

“Smartass.”

RK900 hummed before Reed descended on him once again.

After a few long moments, Reed pulled away to look at him, smiling. “When did you know?”

“Know what?”

“When did you know you wanted to smash faces,” Reed jeered, poking RK900 in the side. RK900 laughed.

“Would it be cliché if it was the first time I’d set eyes on you in Pearson’s?”

“Yes,” Reed replied, giving him a flat look.

“Doesn’t make it any less true.” RK900 laughed as Reed rolled his eyes. “What about you?”

Reed seemed to think it over then responded, “Somewhere between vodka and rum.”

RK900 kissed him while Reed tried his best to laugh his way out of it. They ended up splayed across the couch. Their two glasses set aside for now.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did writing it. Leave a comment or kudos if it strikes your fancy. I'd love to hear what you guys thought about it.


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